


The Glory of the Gents

by marguerite_26



Series: Pornathon 2012 [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Anonymous Sex, Blow Jobs, Glory Hole, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M, troilism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-13
Updated: 2012-09-13
Packaged: 2017-11-14 03:58:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/511065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marguerite_26/pseuds/marguerite_26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> Percival wonders if these toilets have ever had a purpose other than the current one. He picks the second stall and kneels, waiting.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Glory of the Gents

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Snegurochka_lee for the beta. Written for summerpornathon Week 4: Minor Characters.

The door to the gents is tucked in a shadowed corridor by a fire exit. Both stalls in the tiny loo have out of order signs dangling from the paint-chipped doors. Percival wonders if these toilets have ever had a purpose other than the current one.

He picks the second stall and kneels, waiting.

Sometimes no one comes and he kneels for hours, spending most of the time hard just from the anticipation. Those nights he goes to the gym after the bar and punches the fuck out of a leather bag until his knuckles bleed. He hates that he’s reduced to this. Hates that he stands out in a bar like a giant and discretion is impossible so he hides in here. Hates that he doesn’t know what his friends will think about him being queer and he’s too insecure to find out.

The blokes from work he goes out drinking with are just that: _blokes from work_. He barely knows them at all. So every Friday he sneaks off and waits on his knees, his eyes on an empty hole. 

Tonight he doesn’t wait long.

The lock on the stall beside him clicks and there’s a crinkle of a condom wrapper a second later. The bloke’s going to be a talker; already a low rumble fills the quiet toilet. Percival flips the button of his trousers, eager.

The dick’s long and thick, stuffing the hole. The sight of it makes Percival’s mouth water. He licks the tip like he's worshiping it. 

“God, Fuck. Someone’s there,” a strangled voice says and Percival takes in the head.

“You shouldn’t doubt me.” 

Percival freezes at the second voice. _Christ_ , there are two of them. 

“Do you like it?” It’s the second man, the one whose dick isn’t stretching Percival’s lips until they crack.

The clipped upperclass accent makes Percival gasp, choking in surprise as he recognises him as Arthur, that posh arse from Accounts who tagged along with their group tonight.

There's a dragged out, “Fuck!” And Merlin’s voice is unmistakable. 

“Some stranger’s choking on your huge cock and you love it, don’t you?” Arthur goads. There's a loud zip and the sound of a second condom wrapper crumpling.

Merlin thrusts further into Percival’s mouth, urging him on. Percival realises he hasn’t been moving. He can’t very well leave; they’d recognise him through the openings at the stall hinges. Arthur’s the sort to look. He keeps his lips wrapped around Merlin’s cock.

Percival can hear a wet smack and Arthur’s soft grunts as the thin wall separating them shakes; Merlin’s getting fucked through this, he realises.

“You’re so fucking hot like this,” Arthur moans into the next thrust. 

Percival closes his eyes to picture it: Merlin with his jeans at his thighs, his face pressed to the filthy stall as Arthur plunders him, his dick caught in the hole with an invisible mouth struggling to take his length. Prim and perfect Arthur, who always teases and mocks Merlin in meetings, says all the right things now to get Merlin off. The gentle reverence in Arthur's voice snaps Percival's control.

Percival’s hand is around his cock, pumping himself to Arthur’s rhythm – ashamed and jealous and so fucking turned on.

Merlin finishes first, spurting into the condom with a final thrust that has Percival wishing he’d pulled the condom off in time to let Merlin spray across his lips. 

Percival comes not long after. He’s usually quiet, terrified of somehow being recognised, but he can’t help himself, and for a minute he thinks he’s fucked up and said a name – either or both, he can’t be sure. There’s a painful silence where Percival holds his breath but then there’s a rustle of clothes. Not a word is shared between them and they’re gone.

He waits ages before he heads back to the crowded table of his work lads, slipping into a free chair. They carry on their conversation as if they hadn’t noticed he was gone. His eyes flicker around the group and his gut twists with guilt as Arthur looks up from Vivian’s flirting.

Arthur’s expression is blank as he hands Percival lip balm. “You split your lip, mate.” 

Percival stares at it, face hot. Any reply he can think of flies from his mind.

“Keep it,” Merlin says, “you might need it later.” His ears are flaring red, but his smile is blinding.

Before Percival slips it into his pocket, he sees there’s a phone number scribbled on the side.

**Author's Note:**

> If you prefer, you can [comment at the livejournal post](http://marguerite-26.livejournal.com/707209.html#cutid1)


End file.
